


Greyscale

by AllegedlyAlan



Category: Jreg, The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Homophobia, Human Names, I just write gay fanfiction, Internalized Homophobia, Look I can't do politics, Misgendering, One-Sided Attraction, Other, Transphobia, enbyphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28411974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegedlyAlan/pseuds/AllegedlyAlan
Summary: He pulls out his phone and opens Messenger. He knows it’s probably the worst thing he could do right now, but his fingers automatically scroll down to Bernie.It’s just… There was always something so kind in Bernie’s messages. It always helped him whenever things got shitty.Except today it doesn’t.
Relationships: Anarcho-Communism/White Identitarian | Nazi (Centricde), one-sided Conservatism/Homonationalism
Comments: 7
Kudos: 15





	Greyscale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [everyone who comments on my stuff thank you so much guys](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=everyone+who+comments+on+my+stuff+thank+you+so+much+guys).



> There's probably a ton of inaccuracies regarding politics in this (as well as in all of my stuff, lol), so please don't gouge your eyes out. I'm just someone who can't even use commas properly, posting cringey fanfiction to distract myself from the stress of a global pandemic ;^)
> 
> The names:  
> Bernie - AnCom  
> Willem - Progressive  
> Konrad - Nazi  
> Hans - Homonationalist  
> Erich - Ecofascist  
> Jordan - Conservative
> 
> lmaooo I watch too many soap operas

Konrad quickly pulls out his earphones and turns to his friend.

„Huh?“

„I said that Hans should be getting on here.“

„M-hm.“ he mumbles and quickly pauses the Deutchland über alles he’s been listening to a few moments ago. Not only are a lot of people getting on the bus here (and someone could hear it), but Hans also really likes to talk. And unlike Erich, he, unfortunately, can guess when you’re not listening to him.

But his youngest friend doesn’t seem to mind. He’s sitting in the back of the bus, hugging his backpack (filled with all sorts of gardening junk) and he’s currently trying to convince Konrad that Greta Thunberg’s on their side. („I mean yeah, she is Swedish and they worship immigrants there, but she’s also blonde…“)

Jordan fell asleep. Konrad smirks and leans over to ruffle his perfectly combed hair. It looks like Peterson’s lectures aren’t all that interesting, given that Jordan is snoring against the window.

Though that’s not suprising, it is 7 AM after all. That’s too early even for him.

To be honest, Erich’s probably the only one excited for the event.

„Because the climate and the nature are so _important!_ “ he tried to persuade them during yesterday’s Discord call.

To be clear: Jordan probably just wanted to impress the top dogs at his church. Hans just wanted to know if there will be „any cute guys?“ (Konrad’s response that he’ll be there probably didn’t quite satisfy him). Upon hearing that „maybe“, he joined really fast.

And Konrad? He just… didn’t want to spend another day sitting in his room, thinking about why his friends always seem to have more fun without him.

Suddenly, a familiar voice made him push his thoughts aside:

„Guten tag, sweeties.“

Hans waves his hand with painted nails in front of Konrad‘s face and crashes on the seat next to Jordan. Konrad wonders why is he squeezing in there when there’s so many empty seats around, but to his disgust, it all becomes clear when Hans (very „inconspicuously“) wraps one smoothly shaved arm around the sleeping boy’s shoulders. Konrad tries to recall the reason he even talks to that homo.

„So, how have y’all been doing without me? Nothing spectacular, I imagine.“ Hans winks at Erich, who flinches a little under his gaze.

„I was just telling Konrad about my plan-“

„I know that guy!“ Hans interrupts him, pointing a finger at someone getting on the bus.

„Great, now he knows us too.“ Konrad frowns when the stranger turns around to face them (and so does everyone else on the bus). But to his suprise the dude he waves at them, or at least at Hans. Which also gets him a sour look from… oh no. Why, of all people, does he have to be accompanied by _him_? Or it? Them? Doesn’t matter.

Konrad quickly turns away and tries to listen to whatever Hans is excitedly telling them about.

„That’s Willem Chomsky, the guy wrapped in the scarf! Yeah, in the green one. With the backpack. I heard he’s named after Willem Arondeus, which kinda sucks, but their mom’s a bit messed up I heard. And next to him, that’s…“

Bernard Chomsky. His younger brother, or sister, doesn’t matter. Unfortunately, Konrad knows that all too well.

„C’mere, there’s a stain on that seat.“ Willem pulls his sibling on the seat next to him, despite his protests. Then he places the backpack with an embroided Danish flag onto his lap and leans against the window.

„What the hell are they doing here?“ Konrad leans to Hans.

„Maybe they’re going to where we are? Willem’s really into this stuff, didn’t he organize that whole global warming project-thingy last year?“

„Wha… What’s going on?“ desoriented Jordan speaks up, but he quickly regains his composure when he notices Hans‘ arm around his shoulders. „And put this somewhere else.“

„A real snack just walked in. Along with his little tranny brother.“

„Just another result of cultural marxism. And your hand is still on my shoulder.“

„What was it that he said he is?“ Hans asks, disappointment in his face as he lets his hand fall down.

„Non-binary. Or something like that.“ Konrad replies.

„Sounds like a calculator.“

All four of them burst out laughing.

„Also, while we’re still talking Chomsky: who names their sons – yes, _sons_ – Bernard and Willem? It’s clear that when you call them that, they grow up to be fags.“ Hans argues.

„You’re one to talk.“ Jordan points out.

Konrad’s mind drifts away. He gazes at the mop of dark hair that marks Bernie’s presence in the other half of the bus (because he’s so short that that’s all you can see of him behind the headrest). He wonders how much of his secrets Bernie spilled to his friends.

Then, he makes the desicion. He takes a sip from his waterbottle, to get rid of the unpleasant scratching somewhere deep in his stomach (where conscience is located) and blurts out:

„Their mom is not all there, if you know what I mean. „My parents did not raise me to accept abuse from men“.“ he mocks a Puerto-Rican accent, „Have you ever noticed that all lefties are either poor, or gay? Why do you think they both wear the same stuff all the time? Or why their mom never comes to school, not even when the tranny threw a temper tantrum last summer, because he had to wear a boys‘ uniform? I’d be embarrased too.“

It has the desired effect. His friends burst out laughing.

„Oh my, I remember that! How he refused to get out for like two hours!“

„And crawled into the toilets for retards, because he „isn’t a guy nor a girl“!“ Erich cracks up.

Konrad’s stomach makes a backflip. He’ll have to start sitting in the front.

„Yeah, that was legendary. Remind me that I shouldn’t change next to him next time, please.“

„Hey!“ Hans speaks up. „But that includes me as well!“

Konrad shrugs.

„Locker rooms are divided so no one can gawk at you, right? You’ll have to joint he girls.“ But he doesn‘t really mean it. Manily because after a long time, the object of Hans‘ desire is Jordan and not him. 

„But then they’ll be gawking at me!“

„Don’t be too confident in that.“ Jordans joins in.

While they are arguing, Willem lets an oldy lady take his seat. That earns him a dreamy sigh from Hans.

„If only he weren’t such a libtard…“

„Hans, right now I’m reading this one article, really interesting, it’s about conversion therapy, how about I send it to you, what do you think?“

As his friends bicker (Hans sees it as flirting while Jordan is seriously trying to „cure“ his friend), Konrad rests his head against the seat in front of him, hoping to get some sleep before they arrive. Even though his forehead is currently touching the greasiest spot in the entire bus, this position is really great because it doesn’t allow him to constantly look at the bundle of dark hair nested by the window.

„Our goal is to clean this stream as much as possible. Fun fact – does anyone now its name?“ the organizer of this entire nature-loving-thing asks enthusiastically. But the only answer she gets is awkward silence.

„Doesn’t matter, me neither. Anyway, you’ll form groups of three and you’ll be picking up trash and stuff. I’ve got the trash bags, I’ll hand them out in a second, and in that box over there, there’s gloves, if any of you don’t have yours. Just please be careful, if you come across this kind of an old armchair, don’t pick anything up there, there’s this homeless guy living there. Any questions? No? Well then, make the groups, I’ll give you the bags…“

Before Konrad could realize that there’s four of him and his friends, someone grabs his hand and pulls him to the left.

„Willem, I got the third one!“ shouts Bernard Chomsky and almost painfully digs his nails (with black nail polish) into Konrad’s arm.

„Hey!“ he tries to escape, but to no extent, because excited Willem is already rushing to them with a trashbag in his hand. Plus his friends are all gone anyway.

Konrad tries to wiggle out of Bernie’s grasp, but the latter leans in and takes a jab at him, whispering:

„What is it? I thought you… How exactly did you write that? You don’t want to end up alone?“

Konrad freezes.

Bernie clearly had no problem pulling out all of the personal stuff from their convos and using them in the worst moment possible. Konrad would almost get angry, if it weren’t for him doing the exact same thing back on the bus.

„Hey, you two… You know this place, right?“ Willem speaks up.

„Huh? Why?“ Bernie asks.

„I need to discuss some stuff about my seminar, so…“ he waves his hand in the general direction of the girl that gave them the gloves. „You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up to you later, ok?“ But he doesn’t wait for their response, already walking towards the girl.

„ _Seminar_ , suuure. Fine. So I guess we’ll start somewhere close to the spring, I didn’t see anyone going in that direction. Yeah?“ Bernie finally eases his grip on Konrad and makes a step back.

„Hm. Fine.“ Konrad flinches. All of his friends are gone already and that painful twitch of jealousy is back. „But don’t touch me.“

Bernie just chuckles.

But as soon as they are away from everyone, the dark-haired boy(?) suddenly turns and pushes Konrad aside. His back hits the base of a nearby tree.

„What are you doin-“

Bernie pins him to the tree.

„You really think I didn’t hear you back there? On the bus?!“

„Jesus, it was just a joke.“

„You won’t talk about my mom like that.“

„Or what?“

Konrad would have gone for a more daring response, only if 1) Bernie wasn’t so close, which kind of hindered his ability to think rationally 2) Bernie didn’t have such a quarrelsome reputation sometimes. And such sharp nails. And one leg in between Konrad’s, who was afraid that the idea of kicking it up really high and really fast was a tempting idea for the brunet.

„So to you I’m a trannie? Trailer trash? Nice.“

„You didn’t answer my question.“

Bernie ignores him.

„So if you don’t see anything bad about it, I can also share with my friends – or yours – everything you told me last summer?“

Konrad swallows with difficulty. Of course he felt bad back on the bus, but this image grips his insides like an icy fist under his skin.

The image of the entire school finding out the truth. That it’s not all that great at home. That he’s failing like three of his subjects. That his friends haven’t really been checking up on him lately.

The anxiety merges with every cell of his body.

That him and Bernie would sometimes message each other the entire night. About all sorts of things. That sometimes he would fall asleep in the middle of their calls, with his display still on, a pillow in his arms.

That didn’t sound all that hetero, did it?

What if they found out about all the rest? What goes through his head? What he imagines when-No, that’s dumb. How would they find out about that? But the fact that him and Bernie texted each other pretty much every day the entire summer, that would be enough for some.

Bernie must have noticed that Konrad’s mind drifted away because he relaxes hif grip on his shoulders and his big, green eyes meet Konrad’s with a disturbed gaze.

„Because it clearly isn’t a problem to you, so-“

„Don’t tell anyone. Please.“ Konrad manages to squeeze out all of a sudden.

He knows that technically, he has no right to ask for something like this after what he told his friends, but he still hopes that maybe, Bernie is not _like that_. Because as much as he tries to convince himself otherwise, Bernie isn‘t like him. He could call him a trannie, a fag, a neomarxist or a pseudo-intellectual (of which everything was true, by the way), but none of that could disprove that Bernie is not a bad person.

„But why did you tell them then?“

Konrad is silent. He doesn’t know either. 

Bernie looks confused, but his gaze is still full of anger and Konrad is just waiting for the brunet to decide to curb stomp him. And then tell everyone who Konrad Miller really is.

But none of that happens.

„You’re such an asshole…“ Bernie sobs and buries his face in Konrad’s hoodie, who is thrown off by this so much that he doesn’t react immediately. He feels his stomach do a few flips, his heartbeat gets faster and he can feel the bundle of nerves in front of hm start shaking with supressed crying.

He should push him away, hide the wet stains and mascara that was now on his chest and get out of there. And then delete all of their messages, just in case.

Instead he is standing there, leaning against the tree, trying not to notice the warmth spreading throughout his entire body. He wonders how jealous his summer-self would be of him right now.

„So at first we talk… for the entire summer… and then school starts and you just… act as if I didn’t exist… and when I think it couldn’t get any worse, I find out that you told everyone, what I… what was in the messages…“ Bernie says, his sobs sometimes interrupting him

Konrad can’t just let the man (or woman? It’s kinda confusing to him) cry like this, alone. Especially not after Bernie always heard him out when Konrad started crying on their calls.

„I never told them anything before this.“ he tries to calm him down.

„Then why start now?“ Bernie sobs and raises his head to look at Konrad. 

He shouldn’t have done that if he wanted a clear answer, though. Becuse now, Konrad can’t do much besiddes examining Bernie’s face. His eyes. Or hers. Doesn’t matter. Grey stains from tears, that got their colour from the lashes and then flown down his cheeks to… his lips.

 _God, this is so gay, stop it right now_. he scolds himself, but it’s too late. He remembers all those nighta they spent chatting, calling, when he almost thought they could be…

„I…“ Konrad starts, but he has no idea what to say. Because the truth is that there was no reason to just give away the most personal of Bernie’s problems.

„It was just a joke though…“ he tries to argue, but he knows it’s not a good excuse.

„Well it wasn’t funny! You think they’re gonna keep it to themselves?“

Quiet.

Now Bernie is looking at him, his expression split between anger and pity. Konrad can’t decide which is worse.

„So you only talked to me so you could rat me out to your buddies? Nice. Really funny. Thanks.“

„No, wait-“ Konrad tries to stop him. Bernie’s voice has a hysterical undertone in it. If he gets mad and leaves now, it’s over.

„And I thought we were friends, stupid me. Kinda funny, isn’t it?“ he tries to sound angry, but his voice is shaking. And his eyes are watering.

Konrad knows he _has_ to do something. Anything. So that Bernie just doesn’t turn around and walk away. So that he stops crying.

Konrad puts his hands on Bernie’s shoulders and leans a bit closer.

„I also thought that- I didn’t text you just to tell them -“

„Then why?“

„I just, well…“

He doesn’t know what to say. There’s two options: tell the truth, or make something up. Unfortunately, his brain just short circuited from their proximity, that must be the case. There’s no other option. Because before he can freak out, _what is he doing_ , he leans a bit closer to Bernie’s lips and-

He never thought that Bernie was this strong until the pine bark digs into his back. It’s almost painful.

The brunet pushed him away and now he’s standing several feet away from him, looking confused. And kinda angry.

„What the- What are you doing?“ he asks shakily.

God. What has he done? Did he really just try to-

„Why…“

God. God. Julius Evola. What is he doing. What‘s wrong with him. What is happening. He’s not _gay_. No, he’s not a fag. Bernie just looks like a girl. And acts that way. He was just _crying_ for god’s sake. God. That’s disgusting. He’s disgusting. _Even Bernie doesn’t want him_. He just pushed him away, after all. And thank god he did. Because Konrad isn’t into guys. He’s not a faggot. He’s just… confused. It’s Bernie’s fault. It’s his fault. Or her. If only he finally decided whether he wants to be a guy or a girl, others wouldn’t be confused.

„You can’t just be so mean to me and then just…“ Bernie starts, but Konrad doesn’t want to hear the rest.

„It’s all your fault!“ he shouts as loudly as possible, to drown out his spiraling thoughts. „If you didn’t act like a girl all the time, if you didn’t try to make others believe you are something else – because no matter, what you say, you’re a _boy_ – you’re just trying to infect others!“

He expects Bernie to at least kick him, but the brunet doesn’t do such a thing.

„So I _infected_ you?“ he asks, irony in his voice, wiping the tears away. „Dou you really think this is some kind of an illness?“ he shakes his head in disbelief.

„You know what, Konrad? Take care.“

And before Konrad collects himself, Bernie’s gone.

„Dude, finally you’re here! Hans is so gay, I can’t be around him for too long.“ Erich rolls his eyes and hands a plastic bottle someone cleverly tucked inside a tree to Konrad. Who doesn’t say anything, doesn’t laugh at that shit, just puts the bottle inside the trashbag.

„Are you still a virgin? Or did that trannie pull you behind a bush and-“

„I’m also happy to see you, Hans. I wouldn’t have to spend a minute with her if you guys didn’t just make a break for it.“

„So you alright?“

No.

„Yeah.“

Hans nods sarcastically and Erich starts laughing.

„What?“

„There’s mascara on your hoodie.“ Hans winks and points his painted claw at the black smears on Konrad’s chest. Shit.

„That’s just mud. A trophy from a never-ending battle against cultural marxism.“ Konrad tries to turn it into a joke, but he’s panicking inside.

Thank god Jordan just found an old tv in the camp fire pit and everyone rushes to him.

Konrad zips his jacket up.

The bus is trashing them side to side. The driver clearly forgot there’s passengers in there, beacuse he’s more than happy to just slide on the wacky road between two small villages. Erich keeps nagging Hans about _traditional family_ , but the latter just glances over his nails and sends a venomous glare to a Romani family sitting on the other side of the bus. Jordan pulled _Twelve rules for life_ out of his backpack, but clearly has trouble getting into it and gives Konrad a worried glance from time to time.

Konrad’s leaning against a window, wrapped in his jacket. He hasn’t said a word for the entire ride.

„Did something happen?“ Jordan asks in a way that makes it impossible for Hans and Erich to hear.

Konrad supresses the cringe from having someone care about him and shakes his head.

„Nah, I’m just tired.“

Jordan thinks for a bit, nods and then adds:

„Well, if there’s something, _anything_ , you can allways tell me. You can’t just let it rot inside you, else you’ll end up depressed and you don’t want that. Men are the most opressed group, after all, Jordan Peterson said…“

Konrad stops listening after a few sentences. He’s not trying to be mean, but he couldn’t care less about Peterson right now.

After some time he pulls out his phone and opens Messenger. He knows it’s probably the worst thing he could do right now, but his fingers automatically scroll down to Bernie.

It’s just… There was always something so kind in Bernie’s messages. It always helped him whenever things got shitty.

Except today it doesn’t. Instead of Bernie’s ~~pret~~ -familiar face, it’s just the default icon. And instead of his messages…

Bernie deleted everything he’s ever written in ther chat.

Konrad sinks deeper into his seat, ignoring Jordan’s worried looks.

It feels like the world around him has shifted into grayscale, for some reason.


End file.
